Sunday, October 4, 2015

If the Frame Fits, Wear It

In an elabourate fixture of clouds, softer than comparison, the instant and a child combine for space in the garden. The clouds conclude a typical season, with capital sentences and the best assay. Leaves glow, needing to be remarkable.

Inside, the doorway creaks and yet the breeze conduces a shaft of sunlight thru memory and into the tender arms. You can remember that tidal day as well as any. The garden does not resist.

Symbols resort to words when we are backed in. Menial shouting stamps the ground. This is not a simple book to read but an oceanic rising in the trees. Our together means the most.

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